Summary:Armored solders from the Underking's own contingent come looking for some answers. The Legion of Monsters (+1) try to understand what the hell is going on, or what exactly is at stake Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Promises were made and answers were still awaited. Mack has still been wrestling with the weird of reality and this is, well, the last likly place one should bring a psychomitrist. John had his reasons. John always has his reasons and i's a safe bet those reasons are somehow in whatever convoluted fashion, entirely self serving.
There's a lot going on beneath the thick skin of the Big Apple though, and not the least of which is the threat of mole people, the vampires, or the damn Morlocks. Today it happens to be tall individuals dressed in polished chitin armor that look insectoid in nature, and the figures themselves almost the manner of, well, stalwart orange and grey skinned goblinoid-ish persons. They are in the market asking questions leaving many residents uncomfortable.
John and Mack coming down there are also given a bit of a wide arc to walk in as some of the only persons that look remotely human down here. As the shadows and smoke in the underground city grows thicker the gutter mage's eyes seem to flicker with an orange light before it fades. "We're looking for our friends. Keep an eye out for them. Mind what you touch and… well I don't think I have to tell you to stick close."
Yeah, Mack is pretty much glued to John's side from the moment she sees her first monstrous creature down in the marketplace. She'd hang on to his arm if such affectations ever crossed her mind, but she's too used to having to act tough to get all touchy feely, even when scared out of her wits. "Stay close, right. No touching. Check." She shoves both hands into the pockets of her light canvas jacket, trying not to stare at anyone or anything too long.
Jack is, well, Jack. One of the human looking regulars down in the Metropolis, a part-timer as it were. He's in the market himself, no doubt looking for something to ease the stress of what is coming in a few nights. He always looks for a way to relax when the moon starts getting a little too fat in the sky. Not that it's visible down here, but it's a feeling as much as anything else. He leans against the corner of one of the buildings, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he just watches the things in the chitin armor.
Halgrim is walking along with Adam, having some manner of animated conversation with him. "Come now, is it really more believable that Byron couldn't bear to watch Shelley's pyre? Of the two stories I'm inclined to call that into question, not Trelawny snatching the heart from the fire—that I'll certainly buy." He has his hands in his pockets. He adds, "I think he told that story about Byron because he was jealous, wanted Byron to himself."
Adam is not going cloaked and hooded, as he does in the surface world. No, below the streets he has his hood down and the cloak tossed back, to let all the wonderous and horrific details of his construction show. Acres of corpse-pale skin with most unpleasant shades of green-black in the hollows, stitching like he's a enormous three-dimensional quilt. He gives the general impression of being a scaffolding of huge bones covered not quite evenly with stringy, muscular flesh. But he doesn't shamble like the depictions of him in popular culture. He's graceful as he walks alongside his friend. "More fool he," he says to Halgrim, "for Byron gave himself to no single person. But then, his lordship inspired many unaccustomedly flagrant emotions." Seeing Constantine and Mack, he raises a hand to them, and glances curiously at Jack.
Constantine pulls a brass compass out of his pocket and turns to check it leaving one hand on Mack's shoulder since she'll be out of view. He turns the other way, frowns and shakes it. He notes to the pint sized captain, "Hand out, yeah." More a request than it sounds… well for him. If she does he'll hand her the compass. "Don't try to speak. Just point." No doubt that may overload her input capacity for her senses a moment trying to commune with her to find out where they want to go.
The shouldiers, about 7 of them, continue to ask questions looking for information for someone called the 'Under King'. Near Jack one starts heading towards a local vendor and he can hear it. "Tell me what you know where the Children of the Scion are Tell us what you know and this will be over soon." Oh great. people who don't know how trading works.
|ROLL| Mack Linden +rolls 1d20 for: 20
WHen Mack grabs the compass there is a moment where it bods to her in synchronization, past present and future. She envisions the people they came to find and while it fights and tries to funnel nformation through her senses like Niagra falls she's able to hold onto that connection. The edges of the market blur and she can see where they were, where they are at now, and where to move to intercept them. There's a compass bearing for you.
Mack holds out her hand for the compass, and it's like the universe opens up to her. She points with the other hand almost immediately, almost before John can finish explaining to her what they're doing. "That way." The pixie-ish blonde begins heading that way with or without him.
Jack Russell tsks loudly under his breath, as he eyes the soldiers warily. He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and flicks the ashes to the ground, keeping his ears more than his eyes on the soldier after a moment. He's not about to get confrontational with these guys, yet. It's curiosity more than anything that stays his hand though, wanting to listen to the questions as much as the answers.
"Yes, by all accounts Byron was gorgeous; we've an entire adjective thanks to him. Trelawny was just infected by proximity, I'm sure." Proximity, and direct contact, Halgrim thinks but doesn't say. He smiles and nods at John and Mack, though to the later his smile's less familiar, more cautious. (Has she forgotten Elmo's utterly fantastic failure at playing wingman? …not likely.) He follows Adam's attention to Jack, and Jack's to the beings in armor. "Her scales look a little like that, don't they?" he murmurs to Adam.
And then John hands Mack a compass, and Mack is striking off to, well, wherever. Halgrim blinks.
Adam observes the chitinous soldiers. Who are hassling people in his territory. "So they do," he says, with a certain menacing undertone. Mack takes off like a greyhound after a rabbit; Adam frowns, which is a disturbing sight. Then he's going to do his best loom over the soldiers. It must be said, it's a pretty damn good loom. "Pray tell, ''what'' shall be over."
Constantine nods, satisfied, and pulls the compass back up oddly without issue, but notably if one recalls without prior success either. It gets pocketed and heupnods to Jack as the find themselves heading, oh no kidding, to teh hampered booth. The Trog woman with hte azure hued skin seems to be selling all number of strange root veggies, there's a cage with large rats in there, and also several other assorted veggies that seem to be mov-ing? He looks to Jack "'the hell are these guys?"
The soldier nearest Adam turns and relly isn't all that much shorter than the combobulated wonder. "His majesty seeks the children of the Scion. They were taken. He is willing to …trade for useful information regarding them and their safety."
Mack is like a hound with a scent, her magical potential seeming to be very enmeshed in direction and navigation. She is the finder of the Waypoints, even if she doesn't understand that just yet. When John takes back the compass, she stops and blinks a few times, in surprise. "That was…yeah." She sees Adam and waves with a small smile. The big guy has helped her out on more than one occasion, and he is a familiar face in a sea of weird right now. Really, by the standards of stuff down here, he's practically normal. She also recognizes Halgrim from their prior encounters, and the ghost of Fjorskar overlying him like a transparent image. She gives him a more strained smile, no doubt remembering that failed fix up attempt too.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know? I thought you were the expert." Jack's reply is a little bit terse towards the gutter mage, but hey, he's a bit on edge today. He drops his cigarette to the ground and crushes it underheel, making something of a vexed sound. "Sounds like the usual weird crap you attract. Should have guessed you'd show up." He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and watches the confrontation between Adam and the soldier, not looking like he's going to move from his spot at all.
Halgrim moves in behind Adam, looking congenial in his dark gray, flannel shirt, jeans, and urban hikers. He looks entirely out of place, except no one really regards him as such. Just about everyone in the metropolis knows one of his faces, or has at least heard of them. (Though he's not comfortable enough to wear the amulet out in plain sight; it remains a small bump over his chest, under the shirt.)
"Does this, king, have reason to think we'd have any idea where they are?" he asks the soldier. His pleasantness isn't, for the moment, feigned, and in some ways is reinforced by his light Scandinavian accente. "Seen them around here, or, had word they were brought down this way?" He looks askance at John and Jack, noting the interaction, refocuses on the soldiers.
"Who is the Scion? Who are his children? I am afraid you will need to be specific." Adam's tone is politely ironic. "I am also afraid I must insist you stop troubling these people. If you have a need, trouble me."
Constantine levels a flat look to the crabby gent. "Oy, mate, you don't have go go and make it personal. You're th one lurking here like a bloody ghost. We just arrived." He side glances to the inquisition both eyebrows lifting at the assessment. Hands dropped into pockets he swivels at the torso replying, "Alright, we'll give you this one." Man had a fair point. He sighs. "Mack, Jack Russell." He pauses and eyes her "We alright over there?" As much of a dick as he is he cares… to a John capacity… in a very John way.
The guard continues to haggle with the root vendor and unsatisfied moves along to the next opportunity. Adam! The two stand there and for all they are bellicose they seem to be going about, just that: the business of seeking information. "Excellent. You volunteer. We are here to requisition information on the whereabous of the Children of the Scion. The seven have been taken. If they are not returned they will die. The Underking is willing to compensate."
Mack quietly listens to the conversation, giving Jack a small nod of greeting, as he's not familiar to her. She can see the other form hovering over him, something fierce and bestial. She looks a little concerned but tries not to be rude about it or stare too long. She leans in to whisper towards John, "What's an Underking?"
|ROLL| Constantine +rolls 1d20 for: 11
|ROLL| Adam +rolls 1d20 for: 17
|ROLL| Jack Russell +rolls 1d20 for: 6
"Check me again in a week, I'll be in a sunnier mood." Jack doesn't quite snap at John, but it's close. His eyes narrow ever so slightly at the soldier as his ears catch the question from Mack. "Obviously a king that's under something, probably the ground given the situation." No, he wasn't asked but Jack feels compelled to answer anyway. He finally nods a greeting to Mack only looking her way for a moment before returning his attention to the conversation at hand.
Constantine leans back to Mack and murmurs, "So down here, yeah? This is Monster Metropolis. Franky it's like New Yok above, jsut as cramped, unexpectedly the food here's actually better." Thanks, John. "That said there's all sorts of things and people living down here. They don't all get along. This is the pretty nutral center of trade so a lot of things end up passing hands here. LIke a big flea market where teh fleas make a lot of money, ya follow?"
Adam folds his arms across his massive chest. "You are rather far from home, are you not?" he says to the soldier. He considers the chitinous armor with neutral interest. "Let us address the matter so all may return to their lives in peace. Who are you looking for?"
Mack snorts a bit at Jack's non-explanation. Then John is explaining things a but more clearly. "Yeah, I spent some time in New Orleans. Reminds me a bit of the French Market only," UGLIER, "More unique." She watches the interaction with the curiosity of someone who is pretty sure this is just a really strange dream and she'll wake up eventually.
Did Jack hear what Mack had intended to say? He's staring at her with a bit of a curious look, then back to John. "She's too pretty and young to be risking." It's all he says on the matter. This place may be safish, but the life is now. He purses his lips and wracks his brain for a moment, not really coming up with anything that this soldier may be looking for.
Constantine doesn't seem to take the snapping at personally in the slightest. He doesn't move from where Mack's standing near his elbow, and his attention stays focused on teh soldiers moving around. Off-handedly he says, "No one's going to be putting their hands on her, don't worry." He's not going through that a third damn time.
THe soldiers seem disciplined and determined and don't react with hostility when Adam asks them effectivly That's great but who the hell are you looking for so we can answer you? "The Seven have had a vision of the coming war in under earth. The river above into the tunnels below unless they are returned to tell teh Underking how to prevent the Swarm from their war."
Halgrim sighs, rubs at his eyes. "Unfortunately that still doesn't explain who you're looking for." He puzzles over the rest. "So the…Swarm, wish to go to war, and this, Seven, may know how to prevent it, but they've gone missing?" He raises his eyebrows in a silent request for confirmation. It's probably pointless; bo doubt human body language is as lost on them as human vocal language.
Adam scowls. The stitches on his face pull and gape. "The Swarm threaten to drop the river on us? We will assist you in finding your lost ones. For talk of compensation, I direct you to our negotiator." He nods in Constantine's direction.
Mack purses her lips. "Do they have something belonging to these Scions? Maybe my, whatever the hell it is, can find them?" she asks the others.
Jack arches a brow at Mack's suggestion, but he just looks a little confused more than anything. "Great. Secret war in the middle of the earth, sounds like a fun time." That was sarcasm, right? "I'm getting dragged into this, aren't I?"
Constantine watches carefully and can't help but to have that look of Thanks for throwing us under the bud, mate when Adam says see John. He looks to Mack and is about to disagree when he really thinks about that. "I think between you two," he points to Mack and Jack, "You may be right. We'll see. Adam, Grimm, Jack? Keep trouble out of her for a moment?" And here they go. The mage's fingers flick upward as if conducting a stage act rather than a meeting of the minds, "Gentlemen, you have needs, we have questions. None of us have snorkels. Let's sort this out yeah?" They might be a minute or three.
(TO be cont.)